Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2) Read online

The rumors in Dovren were that this Iron Fortress had been built five hundred years ago. A king had kept his beautiful mistress somewhere in the castle. Her name had been lost to history, so everyone called her the Iron Queen. Once Alice had tried to draw a picture of her—with long legs and pale skin, black hair, and a crown of long thorns. Legend held that the king had loved her so much he’d locked her up in one of these rooms so she could never leave. She’d died in here.

  Some said she'd gone mad in captivity, feral. To be honest, right now, I was relating to her a little too much. And what if this had been her room?

  When Jenny came flying back through the window again, another bejeweled hair clip clutched in her talons, my chest unclenched. Nearly to freedom.

  “Jenny, you absolute beauty.”

  Finally, I would be free. I could find Zahra, and hug another human again before I figured out my next move. Then, I supposed I’d have to live in disguise so Samael never found me again. Ernald would never take me back after the bomb incident.

  But even the ragged paupers had something to do with their days, a way to earn a penny. After all, someone had to clean the streets of horse manure.

  I knelt before the door. With shaking hands, I got to work as quickly as I could, sliding the long hair pins into the lock. I felt around a little, trying to work out the shape of the lock. It was a complex mechanism, but with years of experience, I was able to gently compress one pin after another, moving my way through.

  Perhaps Samael had scoured the room for lockpick items, but it seemed he hadn’t anticipated that I would train a raven.

  “Lila!” It was the ghost’s gargling voice behind me, making my heart slam. “Where do you think you’re going? This is your home. Don’t you want to know how you’ll die here?”

  “Absolutely not.” I was trying to work faster now, rushing.

  At last, I compressed the final pin. When I heard the lock click open, my heart leapt with relief.

  I was going to break out of my prison at last, and I would never see these four walls again.

  4

  Samael

  I gripped the stone arches above me, trying to focus on the simple movement of pulling myself up, then lowering myself down again. It was a pointless exercise, but I liked the burn in my muscles. In the ruined church, I'd been moving my body up and down again for … I didn’t know how long. Hours? My arms burned, but I was losing myself in the pleasure of the ache.

  I breathed in the scent of life around me—the moss growing on the crumbling stone, the grasses carpeting the ground. Silvered rays of moonlight streamed through the fog, illuminating the sharp peaks of a half-ruined medieval church. The ceiling had crumbled long ago, and now a misty sky hung above me. From here, I could see one of the towers of the Iron Fortress stretching up into the clouds.

  Lately, my senses were sharpened, sometimes overwhelmingly so. The rich tastes of food delighted me; the feel of alcohol burning my throat made me feel alive.

  Something had changed in me since my brush with death. Since Lila had tried to murder me.

  There was a destructive side to me, one I’d kept under the surface since the early days of the fall. Sourial called it my reaper side—the one that slaughtered with abandon. I could hardly remember it, but Sourial claimed that, when I’d first fallen, I’d left piles of the dead in my wake. The reaper enjoyed the kill. The reaper didn’t understand love or mercy. That side of me had once watched Yvonne burn to death and failed to step in.

  Now, I was a hair’s breadth away from losing my mind, ready to plunge into the abyss of madness at any moment. Hell of a time for me to become King of the Fallen.

  And yet, I felt stronger than ever.

  I wanted to rule.

  I hoisted myself up again, reveling in the power coursing through my body. I hadn’t felt so far from Heaven in ages. But maybe I liked it a little. Once more, I pulled myself up, my fingers gripping the stonework above the arch. Then, I lowered my body down again.

  The sound of footfalls made me pause, and I let myself drop to the ground. In the billowing fog, my fingers twitched at the hilt of my sword.

  It was only when I saw Sourial's blue cloak through the mist that I started to relax.

  He crossed through the archway and leaned against one of the ruined walls, folding his arms. “Where were you?”

  “What do you mean? I was here.” I said it like it was normal to lurk in a dark, ruined church all night.

  "The Fallen Council met, as planned,” he replied. “You were supposed to be there. We were discussing the conditions for you to become king.”

  I stared at him. How had I forgotten? “Oh, that,” I said quietly. Confusion slid through my mind. I had no idea what day it was anymore. “Do you have any whiskey?”

  Sourial fell silent for a moment. “Since when do you drink alcohol?”

  I flashed him a smile. “Since I nearly died and started learning to enjoy the world around me.”

  He pulled out his little silver flask and arched a quizzical eyebrow. “I notice that you’re lurking outside the castle where you’ve imprisoned Lila. Is she on your mind, by any chance?”

  I took a sip and let the smoky whiskey roll over my tongue. Why had I gone so long without this? “No. I haven’t been thinking about Lila at all. What are the conditions, then, for me to rule as king?”

  “Before they will crown you, you must swear an oath to kill the Harrower. I don’t suppose you know where you’d find the Harrower?”

  My muscles tightened. “The Free Men haven’t yet summoned the demon.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ll feel it as soon as they do. I’m working on finding out as much as I can. What else?”

  “You must follow the custom of the Fallen—take at least one mortal wife.”

  I leaned back against the wall, considering this. They had given me clear directives. Unfortunately, I hadn’t the faintest clue where the Free Men were anymore, let alone how close they were to raising the Harrower. The effort of trying to stay sane had been consuming my thoughts completely. I needed to focus better.

  I scrubbed my hand over my jaw. “So I must marry Lila.”

  He snatched the whiskey from me. “No, you must marry a mortal. Not Lila. She tried to murder us both with a bomb. I may not be an expert in matters of the heart, but I’d say that makes her a bad choice for a wife.”

  How could I explain this to him? “I’ve always been guided by my dreams. They’ve always kept me on the right path, kept me from descending into madness. And my dreams tell me she will help me find the Harrower. When I sleep, I see Lila wearing a wedding gown, leading me on a path to the Harrower. So, this is what I must do.”

  Sourial took a step closer, his eyes shining in the moonlight. His gaze was too sharp, too keen. “But it’s not working now, is it? Your reaper side is coming back.”

  I cocked my head. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t remember the massacres I witnessed in the old days, Samael. Your dreams of ruling as king will lie in ruins if you lose your mind. You’ll be worse than the Free Men.”

  “Maybe my reaper side is only surfacing because I haven’t yet married Lila. It is my destiny, even if it’s all for show.”

  He went very still, shadows thickening around him. “She nearly murdered us both. What if she escapes again and passes information on to the Free Men? Or gets another bomb?”

  “She won’t be able to. She will remain locked in the castle. We'll just have a public wedding. She’ll help me find the Harrower. I’ll kill the demon, become king, and lock her in her room again when the ceremony is over. I will forget she exists.”

  In theory.

  “Are you sure she’s actually mortal?” said Sourial. “Could she be a demon? Or nephilim? We both know she used magic.”

  I shuddered at the word demon. “She’s not a demon. Have you ever seen a demon without black eyes? Nephilim, perhaps, but she doesn’t smell like a nephilim. She’s mortal. Some angel must hav
e taught her magic. It’s the only explanation.” An inexplicable jolt of jealousy shot through me at the thought, and my jaw tightened.

  Sourial narrowed his eyes. “And how are you so sure she won’t escape?”

  I walked past him. “I can promise you that if she tries to escape this time, she will regret it deeply. Her freedom won’t last long.”

  5

  Lila

  As I crept barefoot through the dark halls, I felt as if the ghost stalked behind me, breathing down my neck. The air in the castle was frigid; I hugged myself. Since I’d woken up in that room, wearing nothing but a thin white nightgown, no one had brought me clothes.

  When I got out into the world, I’d be running through Dovren’s streets half naked and freezing. My bare feet would turn to ice on the cobbles. Still, it was better than taking my chances with the ghost.

  Shivering, I turned a corner in the dark corridor. Shadows claimed most of the dark stone hall. Stark silver and black banners hung on the walls. Only the distant flicker of torches cast dim, wavering light over the arched ceilings.

  The castle seemed oddly empty. Samael must have thought that I'd never be able to get out of that room, because no one was patrolling here. The hallway opened into a curving stairwell that swept down to the front entrance, and there—without a single guard—stood an enormous oak door with iron filigree. It was just waiting for me to open it and run outside.

  I took a deep breath. I didn't really know what I'd find on the other side of the door, but it would get me closer to freedom. Before I went into hiding, I wanted to see Mum again, to tell her what I knew. I wanted to see Zahra, too.

  There was no sense in wasting time, so I picked up my pace, rushing down to the bottom of the stairs.

  An iron bar locked the door. When I got to it, I stole a quick glance over my shoulder, making sure I was still alone. I heard not a single footstep in the halls. Slowly, I slid the bar across, trying not to make too much noise. With the door unbarred, I tried the handle. To my shock, it simply groaned open.

  Just outside, a wooden bridge arched over the moat. The chilly night air swept over me, stinging my cheeks, and the icy ground froze my feet. Shocked at my freedom, I stared at the rambling, thorny garden that spread out toward the ruined iron fence. The gate stood open.

  Beyond the fence, the river rushed past. I only had about a hundred meters to get to the gate, but I'd be out in the open while I did it.

  It looked abandoned out here—a ruined stable to my left, and a roofless church to my right, overgrown with vines. Mist roiled off the river, which would give me a bit of cover as I escaped.

  In the distance, I heard masculine voices. My breath frosted the air, clouding around my face. The cold bit at my toes, my fingers.

  Now or never, Lila.

  Gritting my teeth, I broke into a sprint over the wooden bridge, running through the winter air.

  Freedom!

  I had just made it to the end of the bridge when I slammed into a brick wall of pain. I froze in place, agony shooting up my bones. It felt like a magical poison was moving up my body, from my feet, up through my legs, into my belly. I grabbed my stomach, doubling over. I felt as if someone were carving me open and dipping me in boiling water at the same time.

  Did I say I wasn’t being tortured here? That was too hasty.

  Shaking with pain, I staggered back. My legs were giving out, and I fell hard against the wood. My body convulsed, ignited with sharp pain from the inside out. I tried to roll onto my stomach, to crawl to the door. Was this how he was keeping me in here?

  If I could make it back over the bridge, maybe the pain would stop. Once again, I tried to pull myself along, but I could no longer remember how my limbs worked.

  I tried once again to push myself up onto my hands and knees, but my arms where shaking violently. Nausea rose in my gut, and I collapsed on the stone.

  My mind started to go dark. I drifted off, my body going limp.

  I woke staring into the beautiful but furious face of the Angel of Death. Gold tattoos swept over his high cheekbones; fire simmered in his eyes.

  Icy winter wind whipped over me, and moonlight silvered the side of his face. I was still outside, still lying on the wooden bridge.

  And I was still in an extreme amount of pain.

  Samael had lifted me by my shoulders, and he was staring into my face. His expression was murderous, though, frankly, I’d have welcomed death at that point if it would’ve stopped that magic poison.

  I gritted my teeth, trying to remember how to form words. "Take me inside, please. If it will stop the pain. Or I might throw up.”

  Wordlessly, Samael leaned down and scooped me up, carrying me over the threshold like I was a broken bride. As soon as we were within the castle walls, the pain subsided—completely. Now, my limbs felt supple and relaxed.

  Taking a deep breath, I met Samael’s gaze. His eyes smoldered intensely, and the air electrified around me. This was the first time I’d been close to another person in months. The warmth from his body radiated over my skin. Through his shirt, I felt his heartbeat. My flimsy nightgown was riding up, which meant one of his hands was pressed against my bare thigh.

  Slowly, his gaze slid down, taking in the thin material of my nightgown. My hard nipples strained against the fabric.

  Well, I certainly had his attention at last.

  “Why are you in a nightgown?” he murmured.

  “It’s all I had. That and the food that arrives in the dumbwaiter.” He’d completely forgotten about me, hadn’t he? “Was that pain I just felt your way of trapping me in here?”

  “Yes.” A line formed between his brows, and his gaze continued to brush lower over my body, down over my thighs where the hem rode up.

  “That was unpleasant.” I was studying him closely—his dark eyebrows, the high cheekbones, the little dimple in his chin. The look he was giving me was hungry. I wanted to shriek at him about what I’d just experienced, but he looked like a starving man who wanted to run his mouth over every inch of me. And that was very distracting.

  On my thigh, where his fingers gripped my bare skin, a sinful pleasure was rippling into my body. This was the addictive nature of the Fallen, with their seductive magic. Not to mention that I’d been starved for contact entirely. Slowly, a molten ache was building in me.

  “Very unpleasant indeed,” I repeated, but I sounded husky and breathless. “I am quite annoyed about it.”

  “Mmmmm …” His voice was a deep, velvety vibration over my skin. “I am quite annoyed as well, since you tried to assassinate me and escape. I’d say annoyed is an understatement.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  And yet I was thinking of how it would feel to kiss his perfect mouth.

  6

  Lila

  He released the powerful grip around my thigh, and I slid down his body, but he kept his other arm wrapped around my waist.

  He spun me around so my back was to the cold stone wall and leaned down, whispering into my ear, “You’re my enemy, and you will stay here where I can keep an eye on you. You are dangerous and untrustworthy.”

  I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck under his cloak. “You can’t keep me locked in a room forever, Samael. I made one itty bitty mistake, but you’re fine now, aren’t you? Strong as ever. Time to move on.”

  “One mistake?” He leaned down, his breath warming the shell of my ear, and a shiver rippled over my body. “You have made many. You poisoned my soldiers with magic, you snuck out of the castle. You collaborated with the enemy, you tried to murder me and Sourial, and now you escape again. Looks like we need to talk about what behaving means. Don’t we?”

  “That’s mostly just one mistake with lots of elaboration,” I said breathlessly.

  “Put your hands over your head.”

  My cheeks were growing warm. “Why, are you going to punish me?” Why did I like that idea? What, exactly, was wrong with me?

  Maybe after all thi
s time alone, I liked the full force of his attention on me, and I could see the desire in his eyes. His sensual, angelic magic was licking at my skin like a slow, erotic torture. So, I did as he commanded, and I raised my arms up against the chilly stone wall.

  The look he was giving me sent molten heat sliding through my core. He gripped my wrists with one hand.

  Pinning my arms to the wall, he leaned down, his mouth hovering over my throat. I was desperate for the contact, aching to feel his lips on me. I closed my eyes, arching my neck. I’m ready for my consequences.

  Slowly, he brushed his lips over my throat, then his teeth. His tongue flicked over the pulse in my neck, sending a wave of hot desire coursing through my body. God, it felt good. I shuddered with pleasure. Pressed against the wall, I was completely vulnerable. And I wanted him bad.

  His mouth continued to move over my neck. I ached for him. As he started to lift the hem of my skirt, a draft swept over my bare thighs.

  “Samael,” I whispered.

  Were we in public now? I didn’t really care. I just wanted his body against mine. It was like all those months of sitting alone in a room had crystalized into a sharp need for him, and only he could satisfy me now. Clearly, I had lost my mind.

  I opened my eyes—and I stared into the face of death. Eyes of fire, swirls of golden tattoos. Oh, God.

  Death incarnate.

  My breath caught; my muscles went tense, my heart slamming against my ribs. That face wasn’t meant to be seen by mortals.

  He dropped the grip on my wrists and pulled away from me sharply, turning.

  “That was a mistake.” He pulled up his cowl, and I watched his fists tighten, knuckles whitening. “It won’t happen again.”

  I was still catching my breath. “Agreed. A terrible mistake. As you mentioned moments ago, you loathe me.”

  “It was the nightgown.” His voice was pure ice. “Any ordinary woman strutting around half naked, flashing her wares, would tempt a man.”